


In This Together

by henrywinter (bakkhant)



Series: JJ Style Week 2017 [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Friendship, Isabella is good, Isabella is the best girlfriend, Isabella is wise, JJ is bad at making friends, JJStyleWeek, LIBERAL platonic tagging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-23 18:40:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11408262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bakkhant/pseuds/henrywinter
Summary: For JJ Style Week, Day 1: Friends.JJ, directly after the Grand Prix Final. Thank God for Isabella.(I have a lot of love for my guy, alright)





	In This Together

**Author's Note:**

> Finally, the week is here and I get to post this :D

The press conference can’t end soon enough, with every question yet another permutation of ‘how does it feel to make history, Yuri?’, ‘how did you manage your comeback, Yuuri?’, and, to him, ‘what happened out there?’.

Even worse, some hapless organiser had sat him next to Yuri Plisetsky, of all people. After the third kick under the desk, even JJ can’t keep passing them off as accidents, or friendly roughhousing. It’s no surprise, really, not since Yuri’s been snarling to reporters left and right that Otabek should have taken bronze practically as soon as he got off the podium.

An especially vicious kick collides with his ankle with unfortunate accuracy; JJ winces internally, but stretches his smile a fraction wider for the cameras. It could be worse, he supposes. He rather suspects that if Yuri had known about the seating arrangements, he would’ve turned up in his skates.

Eventually, the evening drags to a halt, and they’re allowed to shuffle their weary way out. Yuri steps on his foot one last time before making a beeline for Otabek. JJ opens his mouth to protest that hey, that was uncalled for, but closes it again. He’s too tired to get into a verbal scrap, especially when Otabek’s right there to fire Yuri up. 

Instead, he passes Phichit (and even he looks sapped of his usual energy, a shade paler than his foundation), who’s talking to Christophe in low, earnest tones. Thankfully, Isabella’s there when he pushes open the door, and he sinks straight into her outstretched arms, wanting nothing more than to be home. Behind him, he hears Yuri scoff.

“Come on,” Isabella says, gently. “Let’s get you to bed.”

 

* * *

 

JJ wakes up late the next day, but still feels bone-tired. It’s not until he’s showered and ordered room service with Isabella (the water pressure may be abysmal, but the pancakes are sublime, and he only felt a little bit guilty eating them) that he clocks that something isn’t quite right. 

“Why is it so quiet?”

The hotel walls - aren’t thin, exactly, but his neighbours are loud. For the past week, he’s been falling asleep to the sound of either Yuri and Otabek’s pillow-fighting, or Phichit’s cackling, or Viktor and Yuuri’s…nocturnal activities. This silence is highly unusual.

“Oh, they went out for lunch,” Isabella tells him, scrubbing a bit of syrup off his face with a tissue.

JJ’s brows furrow. “Together?” he asks. _Without us?_ goes unsaid.

“I told them you were asleep,” Isabella says, smoothly. “You looked like you needed the rest.”

JJ thinks of the dinner two days ago that they weren’t invited to, of the fresh bruises he’d found on his ankles when showering earlier. He’s almost certain that she’s lying, but he loves her for trying.

“Never mind,” he declares, tossing his paper plate towards the trash like a frisbee. It goes in; he whips his head round to grin delightedly at Isabella, who claps, slightly sarcastic and immeasurably fond. “They don’t know what they’re missing.”

 

* * *

 

He doesn’t see the others again until the warm-up for the exhibition skate. Even then, he doesn’t get much of a chance to talk to them - they’re running slightly behind schedule, a disgruntled Yakov barks at them, poking his head into the changing-room, so could they please cut the chit-chat.

Afterwards, all eyes are on Yuri and Otabek, who flush a bit under the attention but radiate smugness. They keep breaking into smirks, which Otabek at least keeps trying to suppress. It’s adorable.

“You sure you’re old enough for that, Princess?” JJ hollers over the skaters crowding around them. Yuri - quite possibly moving by muscle memory in response to JJ’s voice at this point - gives him the middle finger without even turning to look at him. 

 

* * *

 

Two hours later, they have to start getting ready for the banquet. To be honest, he doesn’t want to go this year, doesn’t want to essentially go through the press conference again, but with peers and sponsors. He says as much to Isabella. 

In response, she puts her hands on her hips and purses her mouth in a fearful imitation of his grandmother reacting to his first tattoo.

“Okay, okay,” he laughs, and starts pulling his shirt off.

They go down once she’s added a touch of make-up to his face, and it’s every bit as awful as he thought it would be. 

Yuri is the star of the show, as he has been ever since his free skate, and he spends the evening alternating between hanging around Otabek, away from everyone else, and actually getting into the party for once, much to the delight of Viktor and Yuuri. If JJ keeps his eyes on Viktor for a while, he can see him casually refilling Yuuri’s glass every so often, phone ready in hand.

Phichit, usually at the centre of things, spends the first hour distracted, tapping at his phone with a slight frown instead of his usual cheer. The reason becomes clear soon enough: at nine, Christophe waltzes into the room, a rose in his buttonhole, and Phichit brightens right up. JJ watches them talk for a while - the conversation looks serious again - before Chris waggles his eyebrows towards the stripper pole, and Phichit begins rounding people up for the _best_ show of the night, get your phones out!

A touch at his elbow startles JJ. He relaxes when he turns to find that it’s only Isabella, a champagne flute of lemonade in hand because she doesn't drink alcohol. 

“You’ve been running away from your sponsors,” she chides, looping an arm around his and leaning into him slightly.

He sighs, presses into the contact. “I know,” he says. “I’ll talk to them.”

“And you aren’t going to become their friend just by gazing after them like a lost puppy.” She takes a sip of her lemonade, watching him steadily over the rim.

JJ grimaces a bit at that. “I know,” he says.

“Good,” she says briskly, softening the effect with a smile. She begins walking with intent, and JJ, not quite caught up on the plan, lets her drag him along. 

He groans - quietly, subtly - when he realises that she’s taking him to meet a sponsor. Isabella responds by smiling up at him, a little bit too amused. 

She’s right, of course. She’s always right, and God, if he doesn’t adore her.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are love :D Please do tell me what I did well, less well, and atrociously :D :D


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